To kids its fun, with sleds and snowballs
To us as men it shrinks our balls
It burns our faces
-We have no graces.
We stare at it with delight and despair in one mixed concoction
Wonder hows Claire
And oh dear where
Is Gran- did she make it to Hoxton?
The Snow THREE
It hugs the trees, it covers the ground
And then theres that wierd crunchy sound
Just after its first hit ground- Profound.